


Scars

by yami (blind_man_sun)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blind_man_sun/pseuds/yami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't wanna do this anymore, Doctor."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fishpaste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishpaste/gifts).



> Very much a drabble request gone awry. Poor Fitz ;n;

The Doctor had decided he didn’t like hospitals very much. Too busy, too noisy, too full of pain and suffering. Entirely too much for his non-human senses to handle. They were always the same, no matter what time and place he was. Depressing, was the word, he thought, even more so when you were the one camped on a hard plastic chair at your friend’s bedside. Or perhaps he was just being selfish. It would hardly surprise him…he’d been an emotional wreck throughout this entire affair.

The Doctor closed his eyes with a, biting his lip and slouching down further into the chair. It was hardly any use berating himself, but that didn’t keep him from wanting to. If only he’d noticed earlier…

“What the hell happened to you?” Fitz’s voice jolted him out of his morose thoughts and the Doctor opened his eyes immediately, leaning forward. Fitz must have just woken up, because his eyes were bleary and his voice was slurred. He was still too pale for the Doctor’s liking, but at least he was awake. Alive. “You look like your dog just died,” Fitz added with a weak smile, the words clearly an effort.

“I haven’t slept for days,” the Doctor replied, giving Fitz a strained smile. “I’ve been worried. How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Fitz said tiredly. He turned his head to look at the Doctor. “I screwed up pretty badly this time, didn’t I?”

“No…” The Doctor trailed off, at a loss for words. What was there for him to say?

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” 

“No,” the Doctor said again, shaking his head vehemently, a pained expression on his face. “Don’t say that.” His voice shook a bit and the Doctor took a deep breath to steady himself. Wouldn’t doo any good to fall apart now. He reached out to take Fitz’s arm, the one that wasn’t full of needles and tubes and wiring, running a thumb gently over the bandages on his wrist. The Doctor noted with distress the tiny circular burn marks dotting the inside of his elbow. He’d seen them for the first time then, and had felt like crying when he realized what they were.

Fitz snatched his arm away and the Doctor looked up in confusion, drawing back. “S-sorry,” Fitz said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I just…I don’t really wanna be touched right now. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” The Doctor said soothingly. “It’s fine. Whatever you need.”

His companion huffed out a short, bitter laugh, drawing in on himself. “Great.” He fell silent. The Doctor fidgeted in his chair, fighting back the urge to ask more questions. To ask why. “When are we?” Fitz asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

“I’m not sure,” the Doctor confessed. “I didn’t check the date before leaving the TARDIS. Sometime on Earth in the late twenty-first century, I think.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Fitz flopped back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “Bet you had fun explaining me, huh.”  
“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” Fitz made a dismissive motion with his hand, then winced. He let out a long sigh, biting his lip. “How’d you find me?” Fitz asked softly, voice so quiet that even the Doctor had to strain to hear it. 

“The TARDIS.” The Doctor swallowed, not wanting to revisit the memories but forcing himself to do it for him. “I was dozing in the console room and she woke me up. She was…” He paused, glancing at Fitz. “She was screaming.” 

The Doctor didn’t pray. He’d been in so many churches and temples and other holy sites in all the long, lonely years he’d walked the Earth. He’d never felt a connection, never understood how humans could believe so strongly in a presence they couldn’t see. The Doctor had been jealous, yes, for the comfort they received while he remained an outsider. The gods of man were not his to speak too. But he’d prayed then, when he found Fitz, when his hearts had slammed to a stop and his body to stone as he begged and screamed at every deity he could think of. 

“She led me too you,” The Doctor said simply, unable to express what he wanted, the words sticking in his throat. He stared down at his hands, still lost in his head. A muffled noise made him look up and he immediately leaned forward in alarm. “Fitz, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” Fitz was crying quietly, shaking. “God, I’m so sorry. I hurt her. I hurt you. I didn’t…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he gasped out. “I’ve never done that before and I only wanted to try it and I pressed too hard and-“ Fitz paused, sniffling. “I screwed up and it’s all my fault because I just can’t get them out of my head.” 

“Get who?” The Doctor asked softly, carefully brushing his thumb over Fitz’s face and wiping away the tears. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, turning aside. “You don’t remember anyway.” The words were like an arrow in his chest, but the Doctor didn’t say anything. He suddenly remembered what Fitz said about not wanting to be touched and withdrew his hand, settling it in his lap instead. He was just opening his mouth to say something, anything, when Fitz turned back to him, expression miserable. “I don’t wanna do this anymore, Doctor.”

“What do you want, then?” The Doctor asked carefully, encouragingly. 

Fitz chewed his lip, looking as though he was struggling to decide whether or not to confess something. “Mostly I want to be able to smoke a cigarette without feeling like I have to burn myself with it. And I wanna be happy. Like, real happy. Not just pretending and stuff.” He’d stopped crying by now and was instead just lying there, looking forlorn and lost. “Is that possible?”

“Yes. Yes, of course it is.” The Doctor made to take Fitz’s hand, then paused and looked at him for permission. Fitz hesitated, then nodded slightly. His face was still tear-stained. The Doctor finished his motion, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I can help, if you’d like. We can find you someone to talk to. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah. God, yeah. Please.” Fitz looked at him gratefully. “Thank you. For that and for…for not being mad at me.”

“Oh, Fitz.” The Doctor gave him a sad smile, squeezing has hand again. “I could never be mad at you. I’m here for you, all right? We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah...”


End file.
